


Cold Love

by TrashpileTreasure



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (on the part of talkative Dopheld), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Because they want to eat dead Ren, Bottom Hux, Dead Ren: maybe not eat?, Death Fetish, Dirty Talk, Eye Licking, Hand Jobs, Helplessness, Hux and Mitaka failing to keep it together during Ren's funeral, Hux plays dead for Mitaka, Kissing, Licking, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Military Kink, Necrophilia fantasy, Nipple Licking, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Romance, Underwear Kink, Uniform Kink, top Mitaka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashpileTreasure/pseuds/TrashpileTreasure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitaka and Hux explore a very unconventional interest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The high ornate coffin of polished black stone had been open for the officers and hooded Knights, closed with respectful discretion before the general gathering of the troopers.

 

He had been almost too nervous to approach him, to look at him, knowing what they’d done, remembering the depths he had sunk to with such uncharacteristic, such frightening, relish.

 

All their white seed dripping down the acqueline leached face and stiffening the abundant black hair, that hair Hux kept smearing with his cock. The large lovely hands in his as he whispered his vicious praise, the large lovely feet glistening with Hux’s come and spit, the tough skin purple and frayed from his nipping teeth. Then the uneasily yielding constriction of Lord Ren’s battered hole around his and the General’s tandem-pounding cocks  (and the heat of Hux against him), when they had finally gone to that last reach and stretched their heavenly man open together, not long before landing.

 

Worried his excitement would become obvious, especially once he saw his knight again, painted up by the coroner’s artist in a manner Hux would surely call whorish, body outlined perfectly in well-cut robes, hair clean and soft and combed well. Such pomp and honor, and he’d only just been reamed and sucked and fondled everywhere twenty-four hours ago. No piece untouched,. Mitaka was glad, even through everything else.

 

Such a waste of top-notch flesh, otherwise.

 

Such a shame it would have been, to leave a singular hothouse blossom like Lord Kylo Ren, plucked so sloppily, so serendipitously, to wilt forlorn. 

 

(In another world, Hux said, he could see Lord Ren taking it every night, the hard meaty mounds of his ass welted thoroughly and his pink jewel of a hole run through by high-paying paramours, his big cock handled and tormented and used mercilessly, his lips bearing the permanent ripe-rotted look of something stretched and bitten and slapped.)

 

Unable to help remembering all the exposed white skin, the rivulets of blood and come, and how the two of them had at last cleaned him for good, with their tongues, again, before cloth or cleanser. How tired and satisfied—and yet bereft—he had felt when they had to cover him prior to docking. He’d kissed him hard, stabbed into his cold stiffened mouth with his tongue, practically declared his love aloud. He’d have kept him that way forever, limp and slowly leaking blood like sweet-saline sap, if such a thing had been possible.

 

He still did not know the whole story of what had gone on in the Supreme leader’s audience chamber—where he had appeared in physical form, according to Hux—when he had brought him Lord Ren’s ravished body, wrapped in silky black fabric and laid on a bier carried by several troopers (quickly dismissed). He knew the Leader must have probed the General’s mind. He knew that Hux had come from the encounter flustered, but, mysteriously, not concerned or afraid. He meant to ask him about it, if he could find time and a way.

 

He’d finally gotten up the courage to look at Lord Ren on display in his finely-carved box—and clamped down a gasp at how he was now, perfected  and befittingly presented for his somber public.

 

Fortunately, so fortunately, the knight was only minimally painted, the lividity of his skin evened to a bruisy white that contrasted well with the black curls spread on blood-colored rich cloth, and the so-soft-looking dark pink mouth, slackened even further by time, and still kiss-plumped (or so he imagined). Perhaps a little lipstick, something Hux would certainly leer at, ever knowingly.

The beloved gash across his face had been left uncovered and open, a clean deep pink rift. A reminder of his noble death in combat, he guessed. All told, he looked very obviously dead, for which Mitaka was thirstily grateful —and distressingly, though predictably, Mitaka’s cock.

He looked just as mesmerizing, as unintentionally but undeniably seductive—in a different way, a haughty and prepared and honored way—as he had in the snow, or in the transport with his legs open and his inviting bloody wound messed with wicked white.

His black tunic and trousers were the same type of silky stuff as the cloth he lay on, and just as flattering to his muscular remains as Mitaka had expected—perhaps even a little too temptingly tight. Nearly indecent, really, at least to the eyes of the man who enjoyed his all-too-clear charms only  a day ago. There was silvery lacing up the front of the tunic, around the cuffs of the lovingly tailored sleeves. Mitaka felt a little proprietary bite in his chest, not liking all the other eyes running over this--ethereal flesh--he and only one other had experienced to the fullest.

 

“They did a good job on our knight, yes?” came a familiar heated voice at his ear. “An excellent choice to leave that pretty cut. Leave him almost as he was. No need to gild such a lovely, robust flower, is there?”

 

“No. he’s—still—Sir—he’s so beautiful. Distinguished. Like a--a prince in a story, or something.”

 

“You’d like to have him again now, wouldn’t you? At least kiss that fucking mouth. Even without the blood. You like how primped up he is, how dignified, how everyone around him is looking so solemn while you’re imagining your cock in him. In his fat hard muscled ass. Think of it. Opening up that pretty clingy silk and messing up that hair, giving that delicious cold shithole a little more something to remember you by? You’d fucking love it.” Hux brushed the lieutenant’s hand. “So would I. It’s hell to just stand here and gape at our knight, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes it is, sir. Yes it is.”

 

Ten minutes later, they were in a locked meeting room not far from the viewing chamber, frantic hands in each other’s hot over-tight trousers. When not pressed together, their mouths whispered fragments, memories, fantasies.

 

“We could come in tonight and open his coffin,” breathed an emboldened Mitaka, sighing and grinding into his General’s massaging hand.

 

“We could. Lift him out, bend him over the lid. Give him last kisses. If he’s not too stiff.”

 

“All over. Yesss. Oh, Sir—touch me.”

 

“Yes, all over. His face, cock. His gorgeous ass. That’s all he’s good for now, isn’t it? Tasting and fucking. Do you think he’s still got some of our dried come way up inside him? Hmm?”

 

Mitaka came first, then got on his knees and grabbed his superior’s cock just below the ginger curls. He pleasured him and swallowed him, and they rearranged themselves. Hux kissed him firmly, like an oath, just before they moved back out to their public. He was due to make a speech.

 

“In my quarters,” he said, and gave Mitaka an hour later that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Mitaka straightened his uniform for the tenth or twelfth time (or maybe the twentieth, he could admit) since he’d first gotten dressed and fixed his hair so carefully in front of the mirror. Swallowing and flushed pink already, he stood outside the General’s quarters. 

Hot, dizzying anticipation. He thought of the previously distant, but galvanizing man he was certainly going to penetrate tonight. Always collected, untouchably beautiful. Thinking about him with his eyes shut, still and cool, awaiting his sick Lieutenant’s whim. He still could hardly believe he had been given this chance, not just to spend the evening with his General, but to treat him like just a pretty object, a thing to revere and…infringe upon. 

 

Mitaka wanted to look as near to worthy of tonight’s man as he could (he liked Hux’s sleek, gelid, strong-boned features better than his own innocence and softness). Even if Hux would not be spending much of their encounter with his eyes open. His pale coppery lashes still and delicate, laid against pale perfect cheekbones. Another voluptuous twinge at this idea—the extra helplessness it would add. 

And he truly thought he did look good. His thick dark hair neatly combed in a way he believed the General would appreciate, his youthful (and overly eager, he knew) face freshly shaved (he’d be rubbing it against languid long thighs soon). The dress uniform was newly and very hastily ordered up for the funeral, a gift Hux could ill-afford, and it fitted him better than his old one, accentuating his small waist and broader shoulders, tight enough to show the slim lines of his legs and his lean, rather pert (he thought, blushing again) buttocks.

He pulled himself up to his full height, raised a gloved hand, and punched in the code he had been given. He didn’t know exactly what to expect—only what he desired. But he was sure Hux would make it something good, just for him, something to rival their… interlude… with the memorable remains of Lord Ren. 

His body still thrilled horribly to think of the slain knight under his hands in the snow, the sweet sordid dream that had followed. The harsh red flush rose to his cheeks. 

Inside the small anteroom, he found no sign of his new lover (could he call him that? Even inside his head?), but there was a decanter of brandy on a low table beside one of two upholstered grey chairs, alongside a single clean glass. Everything in the room was a comforting, muted steel-grey, only hints of other colors. 

He sat and poured a generous serving. His General had anticipated his nerves. Warmth—not all of it from the brandy—suffused his body. He sipped and allowed himself to think of what kind of chilled delicacy awaited him in the bedroom. 

Would the General be nude already, or would he get to undress him? How long would he stay cold? Would he remain limp even as Mitaka caressed and kissed him? Even as he licked and fucked him? 

He wouldn’t be able to help taking him hard.

Brandy doing its work, Mitaka’s mind wandered to the black and red and grand spectacle of Lord Ren’s funeral. He had spent most of it after his furtive orgasm with his General in a haze of suppressed lust and slight but persistent shame. Hux had favored him with a small antique flask, full of whiskey, following their grasping meeting. 

The memory of the day served to arouse him, and the brandy to cradle him as he considered how to approach his “dead” General. 

At last, he went to the door, opened it, and gazed at the scene before him. 

His expectations were immediately fulfilled. The polished and elegant redhead lay lax on the neat bed, his hair combed and damp. The stiff, eminently respectable prize of a man wearing only his regulation shorts and vest. 

His uniform was folded on the side table, and Mitaka knew the role he was to play.

The deviant coroner, or coroner’s assistant, who would dress his charge only after he’d had his fill, and cleaned the evidence of that indulgence. 

Hux was like some slaughtered lissome predator. Slim and long and sinewy. His smooth pallor was accentuated by the white underclothes; his skin looked like fresh cream. He was on his back, facing up, his eyes shut and head tilted back, his arms completely relaxed at his sides. The facsimile looked so real that Mitaka’s arousal lit right up , despite his worries about—performance? 

Why worry about that with his beautiful superior’s “corpse”? Had he not invited him to have him that way?

He could do as he liked, and Hux had no choice but to lie still and accept everything, his hesitation, his spilled words, his restless hands, his starving mouth, the eventual tortured rites of his cock. The slow way he would handle him, the incessant kisses as he dressed him.

The kiss he gave his pale-violet lips now. 

His skin felt like it had been rubbed with ice, so very good, damp with water so cold it could not have been comfortable. He kissed the chin and the perfectly-formed jaw, cheekbones, brow, finding it all delightfully chilled and clammy, as if some lucky keeper of the dead had just washed him thoroughly.   
Everywhere, an efficient hand everywhere, on his succulent cock and sour sack, his soiled little crack and hole, the sweaty hollows behind his muscled knees and under his arms, all his unique copper hair. Some lucky creature had washed it all. 

Mitaka allowed this jealous fantasy to spur him on. He filled in the blanks of what they were playing out. 

Perhaps it was a head injury that took him down, some internal wound sustained while shouting orders on the bridge, during an attack? Steadfast and stoic, his General, until a blast suddenly rocked him off his stride. Altered him entirely, for the better, if that could be. Silenced and softened him. Made him more alluring than he could know.

He slid his hand under the fine white neck. Truly classic, with those icy symmetrical features, and the hints of young lushness. He looked like the brave and devoted officer in a propaganda holo. He leaned up to kiss his hair and the line where it met his high brow. 

There would be only a trace of blood in a thin but fatal crack in his skull, mixed easily with the unusual shining hair. His mouth would part, slack and round and wet. His body would twitch, then sprawl, long graceful legs and lean arms spread out. The stain on his front, the threads of drool and perhaps blood from his breathless wide-open mouth. The bright hair fallen in his shocked white face. Luridly sexy—accidentally, unwillingly, sexy. 

“So handsome, my General,” he said, with real feeling. “I don’t think you ever saw it. So sharp, so resolute. You only rarely thought of your beauty. Maybe,” he grinned, “maybe only when it benefitted you.” 

He stroked him down the front of his chest, ignoring the faint movement there.

“That’s all you have now, sir. Your beauty. Forgive me, I’m going to have to muss you, just a little. I know you don’t like to look—out of sorts. But you can’t stand aloof now.”

There was another long kiss. Hux must have been sucking on ice, and he kept his teeth half-closed, a barrier to the deeper slick of his stern pink mouth. Lips a little too full and pretty for such a hard man, though not as concupiscently wide as the knight’s. He liked them now, just as he liked them peeled back against Hux’s white teeth as he barked orders or let out his fiery, choreographed words during a formal address. 

Then Mitaka began to creep his hands up the cool flat belly, over the faint rise of the hard pectorals, the little nipples high and pinched from the cold water. Not soft like Lord Ren’s dead tits, but it’d do. He’d heard of corpses dying with erections (an overwhelmingly erotic thought, as much as he’d loved touching and tasting Lord Ren’s limp and supple “equipment”), so why not hard nips? He raised the shirt easily over Hux’s head, messing the wet shining hair, just as he had promised. 

“Not so bad, to be a little disordered,” he soothed, kissing the red locks, straight and short and nearly as thick as Lord Ren’s. He ran his fingers through them. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you pretty again after I’m done taking my fill of you. No one will notice their late general has been fucked, before they lay you out.” He licked his ear below the lobe. Soft as a child’s cheek. “I plan to do it as many times as I can, too. I couldn’t have you just once. You’re too much for that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux continues to indulge his perverted subordinate. (This is the original Chapters 3 and 4 merged, because 3 was so weird and short on its own.)

Hux wanted to whisper to him to get on with it, to touch him properly. The little kisses and the careful handling made him impatient. Mitaka’s words were flattering, unsettling--and arousing—but he had imagined being taken the way he himself had used Ren’s irresistible meat, bent and posed and degraded.

Mitaka’s gentle hands slid his underpants down and off over his feet. He nearly moaned as he felt his man caress the soft arch of his left. He hoped there would be more attention there.

But he didn’t matter, he was Mitaka’s entirely, to toy with, to fondle, to penetrate when he saw fit, and lave with his needy tongue between slow or pounding fucks. Mitaka stroked his long slim legs, the small muscles he was proud of. He avoided his half-hard prick, which Hux hoped would not spoil the illusion of death. The lieutenant’s ginger handing made him relax after a few moments, made it easier to sag into his role as the coveted corpse.

“All cleaned up, almost ready to be seen. And I have to—interfere.” A kiss on his thigh, moist and chaste. “I have to go and mess you up. Fill you up. I’m going to make you so full, my dear Sir. And it looks like you might want it, even if you don’t know.” A hand palming him. Because he thought his General might like it. “A little slutty, for a dead man, aren’t you? With your nice cock still hard? Did you enjoy your fight, Sir?”

He could imagine his battle-mad superior getting a little stiff during an attack, from all the excitement, the flash and destruction, all the neat young men and women doing exactly his bidding. Could imagine that sweet prick unflagging even after the fatal hit. It was easy.

Hux almost shuddered visibly, but he kept himself in check. Mitaka knew him better than he had expected.

“It looks like you did. So vicious—I like that, especially in a such a very pretty man.”

Hux willed himself not to blush. Years of schooling his features paid off now, as usual.

He felt the mattress shift, then the brush of hot lips on his cool throat. Then a hungry wet tongue laving his jaw, his cheekbone, followed by a pressing close-mouthed kiss beneath his eye. Gentle breath in his ear and gentle teeth on his earlobe.

Mitaka’s weight bore down on him. His lieutenant’s erection was strong and urgent through his pants. Hux found he liked knowing it was for him, all that concentrated want. Mitaka was right, in a way, when he said Hux never thought of “his beauty”. While not entirely surprised that the young man found him appealing (he was neither blind nor naïve, had turned down or taken up many propositions in his life), he was not used to thinking about himself being seen as beautiful--being desired. There were many other things that came first.

He consciously unwound once more, laxly letting Mitaka rub a careful thumb into the palm of his hand, brush his hair away from his ear, move his head to the side to nip his neck, all of it softly. He did not squirm when his subordinate ran the tip of his tongue over both his eyelids, kissed the left with humid lips.

“Your face. I’m sure you never saw me looking at you—staring at you, really--but I’ve thought you were one of the most attractive men on board since I first saw you.”

One of?

Probably meant Ren, not that Hux could possibly blame him for it. Even discounting his own greedy gnawing at the knight's dead asscrack and hole, and his come all over his bloody face. For years, half of Hux's sporadic masturbatory sessions had focused on making his disaster of a delicious co-commander howl. And, other times, on luxurious fantasies about nice young lieutenants on their knees under his desk, bent over it to be mistreated, and so forth.

“I love how white you are. Like you’ve never seen the sun. Your pretty pink mouth and nipples.”

He half-wished Mitaka would stop talking, though there was something mesmerizing and unexpectedly arousing about being commented upon—and such ridiculous comments--as if he couldn’t hear. There was another light kiss on his lips, then the tongue, terribly soft, frustratingly soft, around his nipples. They peaked harder, loving the attention. Frustration, disconcertedness, and a slight warmth and embarrassment at being… treasured, in this way. He didn’t think he’d ever been handled with anything approaching Mitaka’s bizarre, unnecessary care. Like he was something fragile and expensive.

 

Growing more eager with every second of looking at the lovely lean limp redhead, of touching him, Mitaka moved back on his knees, then ran his hands down the little muscles of Hux’s shoulders, down his sides, dipping his thumbs in the hollows of his hip-bones.

“Your cock looked so hot in those white briefs, I wanted to lick it through them. But it’s just as nice without.”

Following a sudden urge, he dipped down to kiss the curving pink shaft. A part of him was aware of the effort Hux must be making not to react; his cock hadn’t even twitched in the time since he pulled off the briefs. But he couldn’t think much about that.

Again, he imagined Hux shaking and then going still on the steel floor of the bridge. The blood bubbling from his quivering mouth, his lower lip dropping open invitingly, then the red spit trickling down to stain his pale, cooling skin. He imagined his own hands unbuttoning the uniform pants, undoing the belt, stripping him of his sleek black dignity.

“Too bad I didn’t get to wash you myself, get to smell you. Did you get pre-come in the briefs you had on, maybe? Wish I had them to wrap around my cock.”

 A hard, deep, searching kiss, the kind of forceful kiss Hux needed.

 Mitaka shivered, and his cock leaked, at how the slick lips yielded to his insistent tongue.

“Oh. You’re so pure and clean now; they even washed out that fine mouth. So pure. For the time being.”

 Yes, thought Hux, damn it, make me dirty. Spread me and get me dirty, you sweet, incredible fucking pervert.

 Mitaka licked the scant silken flesh of Hux’s innermost thighs. He was grateful for the man’s natural pallor, his unwillingness to set foot on dirt. That skin that looked drained yet radiant.

“If I don’t have you now,” he said, his breathing getting heavy, “I’m going to come in my pants. Just from touching you a little. That’s what you do to me.”

He lifted Hux’s porcelain legs, with the shimmering smattering of gold-red curls, and set them on his own thighs, just as he had positioned Lord Ren when he first penetrated him. Even if his General wasn’t bloody, he was every bit as desirable as the knight, in his own clipped, streamlined way.

(And as much as Mitaka did not wish him harm, he couldn’t help the surge of heat at that now-well-loved image of the blood and foamy saliva dribbling from the--firmly set--then softened--rose lips. The darker red running along the disarranged ginger locks. Wondering what it would taste like to kiss him in the places where he bled.)

He wanted to look at his serene, even features while he plugged that hole he was sure was as pink as the other tender places on his bone-white lover.

He pushed the thighs open and up. Hux’s skin was warming, which he could pretend was from his own ardent touches. The immaculately clean pucker under Hux's damp testicles (silky and heavy in his cautious hands) was indeed the color of a faint blush, pale coral from somewhere distant.

Mitaka fished a tube of lubricant out of his breast pocket and tore it open with his teeth.

“Let’s slick you up, my beautiful general. No need to damage you. Such a delicate thing, really.”


	4. Chapter 4

He bent him back, parted Hux’s thighs wider than he would a responsive lover’s (not that he’d had many lovers, unable to satisfy those who—naturally, he knew--wanted to participate). Hux’s calves and feet sprawled open from gravity alone. His head dropped to the side. Light caught a sharp cheekbone and the side of his thin strong jaw, so artfully and suddenly that Mitaka’s breath paused. 

He stroked the slim well-cut torso, kissed the concave belly, crept his fingers down through the rusty curls and again held aside the sac. It was smaller than Lord Ren’s, he noted now, the testicles more neatly defined. The prim, tightly curled hole he had glimpsed before was nestled between compact but handsome buttocks. Its coloring differed fascinatingly from that of Lord Ren’s, smoother and lighter, with a bare hint of lavender. 

The knight’s hole had been larger, too—more voluptuous. Hux was right; something overall slutty about Lord Ren. A glorified slave, a volitionless weapon. 

Now Mitaka had seen this deep soft dip between the cheeks on two men, two men he never had expected to touch at all. Could not believe he'd thought of it as unsanitary, this rich little nook. And dirty in a less-practical sense, a sense that made his brain feel like it was floating. Now this dirtiness made him flush, it made him hungry.

A meaty reflexive grip, then filthy, filthy looseness, and a fading damp warmth. Lord Ren’s defenseless place, where he’d cored in and left himself. 

A fresh wave of the shivery thing he had felt when he first touched the knight.

Hux wanted him to do this, certainly, but not the Hux in his head, the clean cold slack Hux he had it up for.

He brushed Hux’s extensively well-washed “dirty” area with his uncoated fingers, finding it as cool as he could wish. 

Ice?

(Don’t think of it. Think of him growing colder and ever more pliant in the morgue bath. Tendrils of floating blood. Hair in the water like a brassy crown. Think of someone handling him. His slim long white body.)

“Wish you could see how lovely you are down here. Sir. Your hole--so cold--You’re—only lovely, that’s all I can think of…. So fucking lovely.”

Hux’s crack was damp with the last of the water he had soaked in, lain in, been moved and scrubbed and handled in (so said Mitaka’s heated imagination). He stroked the small scatter of curls, then poked a forefinger to the first knuckle past the muscle of the hole. 

His General opened to him without sound or movement. Hux was lukewarm within. Maybe not so long since his fall and his last bath, and everything after. 

Probably, if this were real, they’d cut him all the way open, and they’d stitch him back up again with crude lacing, as demure as they could make it. Try to preserve the lean stark beauty of the torso. 

So well-suited, so good for his lieutenant, so still. Mitaka slid in, slicked him deep, added fingers smoothly, one by one. He was breathing harshly and—to his ears—obnoxiously. But he was in; there was nothing for it except to keep in that welcoming entrance to his superior’s smooth guts, fingers playing just under, just beyond the cooling gems of his stilled organs. 

He thought of his seed bathing his perfect, alabaster red-haired General’s generous pink-red insides, of slipping frantically against everything he could touch in him. 

(Gripping a lab table in exhaustion--and shame, and fear.)

He felt the slow path of pre-cum down his cock-shaft.

Mitaka kissed him, caressing Hux’s slick hard teeth with his tongue, and the flesh on his gums and inner lips. His mouth tasted bland and somewhat medicinal, a small detail that enriched his fantasy of the anodyne morgue, the General’s exposed dripping-wet body laid out raw and lush as a good butcher’s cut. The arcane, unimaginable probing and penetrating and flushing that went into the preparation of the dead. And the comb gentle enough in his bright hair not to damage the soft, well-soaked skin. 

He pulled away from the “corpse”’s mouth, shifted his hips, and began to rub his oiled cock-head against the General’s small opening, nudging the gentle ridges and the coarse curls of red hair with his lubriciously sensitive slit. He slowly fed the tip in until the fine body accepted him, muscle twitching closed in a helpless sort of way, no obvious control of the area on Hux’s part (just a natural tightness, mechanics, mere nerves). 

Mitaka liked to imagine him touched for the first time only now, after he was beyond feeling it. 

He liked to think of Hux--occasionally, subtly, when it suited his aims--extending the prospect of fair firm body and striking fiery hair, extending it, judiciously, to someone who would not see his reasoning and had to be persuaded with the lure of the haughty young officer’s naked submission. Leaving his admirers frustrated, stuck getting themselves off to the unkept promise in narrow beds off shift, or in the toilets. Such a sly cool tease. All those wanting eyes and unfulfilled hands. Not even a scrap of shaven white for them. Mitaka alone got this feast. 

If Lord Ren seemed slutty in essence, even though the Leader had probably never allowed anyone (or was it anyone else?--because if Mitaka were his master, he would not have been able to resist plunging into that lush dark mess, but Mitaka was human) to possess him—if Ren was at heart a slut, Hux—well, Hux would have seemed virginal in the midst of a brothel. All smugness and rigidity, inviting the desire of others to stain him.

Surely no virgin now, though, all full of his lieutenant.


End file.
